


Confessions at Sunset

by Pinkelephant42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-28
Updated: 2006-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:10:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkelephant42/pseuds/Pinkelephant42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each night Lucius seduces Draco, and each day, Lucius prays at Narcissa’s grave for forgiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions at Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for incest, post-war angst and smut. Since this is post-war, Draco's not underage, but if the incest and age difference squick you stop here. This is an AU in which Narcissa is dead, and was written before Deathly Hallows was released. It was originally posted as a drabble series.

**I: Broken**

To the cracked stone Lucius prays, his cold heart racing against the thoughts he’s lately been harboring.

Mourning, lusting, praying, waiting.

His wife, his love, lies buried here, and Lucius mourns her passing. Once aristocratic and strong, Narcissa is now marked only by this broken memorial of a war long passed.

His son, his love, waits for Lucius. Still proud despite his previous disloyalties, Draco has resigned himself to a quiet life in hiding with his father, away from the threats of the Ministry and the former Death Eaters.

The sky streaks as the sun sets, and Lucius Apparates home.

 

**II: Past**

Stuck in the past. Dreams are nightmares that shake Draco to the core. Each night, the same.

Scared screams echo through the battlefield, and it is Draco’s fault. 

Hiding, crying, longing, falling.

His mother is dead, and it is Draco’s fault.

He should have protected her. Kept her away from all of this. Was that not his reason for being Marked?

Narcissa screams, again and again. In the shadow of his father’s robes, he watches, crying. How can Lucius stand so tall?

Lucius knows, and it is Draco’s fault.

Awake. Heart beating too fast, wanting escape.

His father is home.

 

**III: Night**

Nightly, Draco enters Lucius’ bed, is own unused. Lucius allows it, but turns so he doesn’t look at Draco, always.

Nightmares wake them both. 

Shaking, falling, barely breathing.

Unable to sleep alone anymore, Draco begs affection. He craves touch, words, anything real.

Unkind, Lucius makes him wait, doesn’t indulge him.

Clutching sheets, Draco anticipates, wrinkling silk between his fingers, his breath escaping in inconsistent bursts.

Leaning against the headboard, Lucius admires, lusts. 

Draco, his pet. His love, his weakness. 

So much pride.

Touch and breath, both warm. Skin pale and soft. Gray eyes, so much alike.

Challenging, begging, searching. 

Distraught. 

 

**IV: Friction**

Effeminate and well-bred, Draco is beautiful, if imperfect. Insolent and proud, but willing and conceding. 

Hands run across willing bodies, feeling, teasing.

Real.

Eyes flutter shut, delicate lashes brushing flushed cheeks.

Anticipate. 

Lingering kisses as mouths find flesh. Tongues entwine. Fingers lace. 

Cocks begging, weeping, hips thrust to create friction. 

Draco’s hands run through Lucius’ hair, long, silky, sliding, gripping, tugging.

Lucius cries out, eyes wide, and forces Draco down. Draco sucks obligingly, lips stretched around hardened flesh.

Moaning, biting, licking, shivering.

Lucius stops him before climax. Pressed to the bed, Draco whines for more. Legs spread, willing, ready.

 

**V: Thrust**

Lucius smirks, kisses, prepares. Draco leans into each touch, each caress. Sounds he isn’t aware of escape his lips.

Lucius is gentle and unrelenting, pushing further with each kiss, lick, and bite. Fingers press into a puckered opening, stretching.

Penetration. Writhing. Arching. Thrusting. 

Both sink more and more into the sensations.

Slow, steady, eyes blazing. Lips parted for moans that grow louder as the moments amount. 

Harder, faster, more, more!

Begging with grunts and looks.

Skin slapping and tension building. Release is always a surprise and a relief. Bodies tighten and muscles spasm. A short-lived bliss.

Sweaty, sticky, wet.

Empty.

 

**VI: Afterwards**

Sated. Breath uneven. Gentle kisses in a post-orgasmic haze. 

Lucius falls to the bed, one leg still crossing Draco’s body. Inside of Draco it feels right, now unsheathed, he is unsure.

Draco curls into his father, nuzzling his face into warm, wet skin. He will do anything to be so fulfilled again and again.

Centent, guilt, tenderness, anxiety.

Loved.

Arms encircle tired bodies, comforting. Young hands trace lazy patterns along a worn body. 

Drained. 

Finally, they are able to sleep. Draco’s dreams are no longer threatening, and Lucius pushes his guilt aside.

Nights are so much more bearable like this.

 

**VII: Forgive**

Lucius is pushed to the edge each night, and each day returns for forgiveness.

He walks across the field, rain-drenched, sun-parched, or frost-laden. He kneels, fine robes soiled, stained.

He is a shadow of the man he once was.

Anger, frustration, guilt, tears.

Lucius prays to a cracked stone, heart pounding. Narcissa’s place of rest gives no answers, but he has nowhere else to go.

Today he thinks the crack is deeper than it was. Weather and prayers are heavy, unrelenting.

Betrayal, infidelity. Burdened thoughts and inappropriate actions. 

Their son is his now. 

He Apparates home to find Draco waiting.


End file.
